Drowning
by stalrua
Summary: "And trying to hold on to the memory of Thor even as the skin above her elbow burned with the light touch of Loki's fingers, Jane distantly wondered which was worse – dying of thirst or drowning beneath the waves." Life is a balance of holding on and letting go, and sometimes comfort can come from the most unlikely source.


A/N: This takes place after the events of Thor, but with a twist from the ending that is explained within the story; consider it AU. Also, I prefer a slightly darker, more subdued version of Loki, so you won't find a playful God of Mischief here.

Update: There is now a prequel titled "Fallen", a sequel titled "Restored", and a companion piece titled "Of The Feline Persuasion" so go check those out as well!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.

* * *

**Drowning**

"_He was the ocean, and I was just a girl who loved the waves but was completely terrified to swim."_

* * *

Jane Foster had always lived inside the continent where the fields and mountains and the deserts were. She'd never had the chance to live next to the ocean, even though her entire life had consisted of moving from place to place. Pennsylvania to West Virginia to South Dakota to Nevada to Kansas… one land-locked location after another until she'd finally settled on New Mexico.

She'd spent the longest time living there.

With its overbearing heat and drying wind, it wasn't for everyone, but Jane genuinely enjoyed it, which was one of the reasons it was hard to move away. She wrestled with the decision, even contemplated turning the moving van around when she reached the state border, but she knew the fear would eventually fade. It felt silly to be frightened of something as simple as moving after meeting gods and facing Destroyers, but it bubbled up nonetheless.

Part of it was because she considered the dusty state as much of a home as she'd ever had. Part of it was because she'd miss wisecracking Darcy and father-figure Erik. Part of it was because she was afraid Thor wouldn't be able to find her if he ever came back.

But she always had to remind herself that three years was a long time – too long – to wait for anybody.

Washington ended up being a beautiful state, even if it was the complete opposite of New Mexico. And it had only taken one look at the ocean on that first cool, windy, overcast day to banish her doubts and for her to know this was where she wanted – needed – to be. Starting over was never easy, but sometimes it was vital.

It was hard to pinpoint what it was about the water that drew her in. Even years later, she'd still watch the waves for hours and contemplate what, exactly, made her feel so at peace with herself.

Maybe it was the way it smelled and sounded, relaxing and invigorating all at the same time.

Maybe it was the fact that it was constant, always there with its dependable ebb and flow.

Or maybe it was the way it reminded her of him.

* * *

September

The first time she saw him, she was simultaneously scared and intrigued.

He appeared in a vortex of storm clouds that any normal person – including her, had she not known better from personal experience – would have said was just a particularly strong and violent squall off the Pacific. It was a particularly loud clap of thunder that brought her to the window, but it was the familiar swirl of clouds and a cacophony of beeps and whirrs from her machines that had her running outside.

The impact with the earth was every bit as shuddering as it had been in the past, but the damp undergrowth of Washington didn't hold the round, elaborate pattern that marked his arrival as well as the hard dirt of New Mexico.

In short, he looked a mess.

He'd landed in a jumbled heap of limbs. The elegant Asgardian armor gleamed in the evening light, despite being covered in bits of moss and mud, a flowing green cloak was twisted around his body, arms, and legs, and when he looked up, gleaming horns extended in a graceful arc over his head.

An intimidating mess, but a mess nonetheless.

Jane had no clue as to how much it hurt if one fell from another realm, but from the way the man moved, it must have been very painful. He shifted slowly, haltingly, testing each and every muscle, bone, and ligament for injury. Silently, she watched as he repositioned to a semi-seated position, knees digging into the earth as he leaned back on his heels.

Only then did she release the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Only then did he look up.

When their eyes met, a heavy expression of resignation settled on his face, and she was just barely able to pick up on his breathy, humorless chuckle as he lowered his head once more. In a translucent golden shimmer, the armor faded to reveal a more casual, but still otherworldly, green and black outfit.

"Jane Foster."

And even though she'd never met him, she instinctively knew that the man in front of her was Thor's brother.

His voice and greeting somehow managed to sound as smooth as honey. If it weren't for the gashes and bruises that marred his face and hands or the way he leaned forward to rest his hands against his knees, Jane would've thought he felt perfectly fine. In and out, he breathed deeply, steadily, while she stood and watched.

"Loki."

She really hadn't meant to say anything, but it came out nonetheless. And at the sound of his name, his head lifted slightly, and he fixed her with a penetrating stare. Not angry, not threatening… just thoughtful. Unsure of what to do, she remained fairly motionless while he regarded her; the only indication of her nervousness was the way she absentmindedly picked at a hangnail on her right index finger.

If Thor was to be believed, Loki had schemed against both the All-Father, Thor and his companions, and the Realm Eternal. Every bit of her rational mind urged her to turn and run, leave him there in the marshy vegetation to make his own way. But her heart – it really did have a mind all its own – twisted at the sight of the bruised and broken and lonely being in front of her.

Erik had always told her she was too tender-hearted for her own good.

But Erik had no need to worry.

Jane was just about to ignore her mind and extend an offer for him to recover at her home, when he straightened just enough to take one step forward and vanished into thin air.

* * *

November

The second time she saw him was nearly two months after his unexpected arrival in the woods beyond her backyard.

For the past couple weeks, she'd been so involved in a series of calculations and equations that she hadn't even realized how low she was on groceries. So with a disparaging look through the window to the deluge outside, she grabbed an umbrella – she doubted it would be much help – and prepared to get wet on the grocery run. Her only consoling thought was treating herself to a Starbucks while in town.

She'd been so consumed in figuring out what to order that she nearly squeaked when she opened the door to see Loki.

Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. After so long without seeing him, she'd almost managed to convince herself that she'd imagined that night. But now… now, there was a towering, intimidating, very real God of Mischief on her threshold. And it was unfair how he managed to look regal even as the rain drenched him.

"Jane Foster."

The whole situation was so surreal that her manners kicked in automatically. "Would you like to come inside?" Opening the door a little wider, she moved to the side and gestured into the living room, and after a moment' s hesitation, he stepped past her without a word.

Closing the door, she rested her forehead to the cool surface. What was she doing? She'd just invited Loki – _Loki_ – into her house. As if he was only Bruce Banner and not the man that had sent an automaton to a secluded, sleepy town to kill his brother. She had to be mental; nothing else could explain what she'd just done.

Slowly, she turned to face her guest, leaning back against the door.

He looked so out of place amidst the art-deco interior of her home; standing in the triangular space between the recliner, the couch, and the coffee table, dripping water onto the wood laminate floor. His eyes roamed, taking in the bookshelves laden with heavy tomes, her desk and the mess of computers and papers on top of it, and the few framed pictures that adorned the walls before drifting back to her. And even though he was no bigger than Steve Rogers, the room seemed so much smaller with him in it. Like the molecules of his very being required more space than was typically available.

More robot than human, Jane moved to the linen closet and pulled out a couple towels. Teal blue and lime green didn't really seem to suit a god, but it was all she had.

Crossing the space between them, she held them out. For a second, it seemed like he was going to rebuff the proffered items, but then he took them both. Laying one on the arm of the couch, he let gravity unfold the other before pressing it to his chest.

And while he methodically patted down his hair and clothing, Jane studied him.

Aside from the fact that he was wet, he looked to be in far better condition than when she'd first seen him. All traces of the injuries he'd sustained were gone, and although he still wore the same outfit he'd sported after his armor had faded, he looked clean and well-kept.

Loki reminded her of Thor in some respects. He was tall and carried that same stately bearing of a Prince of Asgard. But, at the same time, he was so very different. Pale skin, dark hair, lean body… he was obviously introspective, careful, and reserved where Thor had always been outgoing, wearing his heart and emotions on his sleeve.

"What are you doing here?"

She didn't clarify whether she meant on Earth or in her home. A slight hitch in his ministrations was the only indication that he'd even heard her, but he didn't answer. The first towel fell to the floor in a soggy heap as he reached for and unfolded the second, bending to press it to his right thigh.

"You don't seem to be here to cause trouble, so why are you here?"

He moved from right thigh to left thigh, from left thigh to left calf, from left calf to right calf. Press and re-fold, press and re-fold. Jane monitored his progress even as she grew frustrated by the fact that he was ignoring her.

"Did Thor send you?"

She was never quite sure whether he straightened because he was finished drying off or because she'd mentioned his brother. The way his eyes seemed to glint in annoyance had her thinking more along the lines of the latter.

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

"Do you always return a question with a question?"

It was… not the wisest thing she could have done, but in the wake of her quip, she refused to back down, her eyes narrowing to match his. The silence was a tangible thing, almost loud in its noiselessness. It amplified her beating heart and quickened breath. Perhaps she'd made an irrevocable mistake in talking back. But then…

"I am unable to return to Asgard." His narrowed gaze relaxed. "Or any other realm, for that matter." And then it drifted to the side to settle on a point in the distance. "I am bound to remain on Midgard until either the paths between the realms are repaired or I discover a way around their faults."

The paths…

Repaired…

"What's happened to the Bi-Frost? Did something go wrong? Is that why Thor hasn't been able to return? But if that's the case, how did you get here?"

Jane knew she was rambling but couldn't slow the stream of inquiries. It both made sense and didn't make sense. If something had happened to the bridge that prevented inter-realm travel, it would explain why Thor hadn't returned for her as promised, but for Loki to be on Earth at all required there to be some methods of travel. Pressing her fingers to her eyes, she shook her head marginally. It was all so confusing.

"You ask entirely too many questions. It is most tiring."

Her eyes shot open to see that Loki had turned away from her and was now regarding her bookshelf. One long, pale finger touched to the spine of a book before moving down the line as he supposedly read the titles. A drop of water glistened at the creased fabric of his elbow, gathering for a moment before plummeting to the floor.

Indignantly, she thought that if he would simply answer the first question, she wouldn't have to ask so damn many. But either way, she still didn't know what was really going on. And to find out anything would require more questions. What was the phrase… try and try again? The only thing was that she doubted she'd get very much information out of him tonight.

"So you don't know how long you'll be stuck here?"

He sighed in the weary way an adult does when trying to explain something to a child. "No."

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"Are you offering your home to me?"

No. Well, um, maybe… it was probably a really bad idea, but… "Yes."

At that, he turned to face her. His face was carefully devoid of emotion as he took two calculating steps in her direction, and Jane was distinctly reminded of a cat stalking a mouse. The feeling of being trapped wasn't helped by the fact that she had no hope of getting away; even she knew that outrunning a god was a futile notion.

"Are you not afraid, Jane Foster?"

"No." It would sound entirely more convincing if her inflection didn't lilt up at the end of the word, as if she herself were unsure of why she was saying no.

He continued to advance on her. "You know who I am. And I know you are aware of what I'm capable." Sensing the situation was some kind of test – or game, who knew? – she stood motionless as he drew close, never breaking eye contact.

"Yes."

"And, still, you offer your home to me?"

Less than a foot separated their bodies when he finally stopped. She could feel the energy of him; it radiated outward in a sensation that was both hot and cold. With a good eight inches difference in their heights, she had to crane her head to keep his gaze. And even though she felt appropriately cowed in his commanding presence, she boldly repeated her affirmation.

"Yes."

Loki's eyes shifted between hers, considering her. "Intriguing…" But he never expounded on what, exactly, he was intrigued about. "I accept your offer."

Looking back on it, any normal person in that situation would have called S.H.I.E.L.D. It would have been the wise thing to do. But while Jane was unquestionably smart, she was not always wise.

* * *

March

While Loki had taken up residence in her spare room – she should be grateful because him staying there had forced her to actually organize the mess of things that she shoved there to keep them out of sight – he had not deigned to remain there every waking second. She never knew when he would be there or when he wouldn't. It was a mystery to her where he went or what he did in the time he was gone. Not that she cared, of course, she just didn't want him getting into trouble or _causing_ trouble.

Either way, life went on and she tried to maintain as normal an existence as possible, despite the occasional presence of a demi-god.

There was a small ham and a batch of rolls in the oven and a vegetable stir fry sautéing on the stove top when she looked up from her stirring to see him standing in the doorway of the kitchen watching her. It was a testament to how often he simply appeared and how often she caught him regarding her – as if she were some kind of puzzle he could figure out – that she wasn't even startled.

"Supper will be ready in a few minutes if you're hungry."

That sounded so domestic.

"I know you don't care for ham, but I made plenty of vegetables."

That sounded even more domestic.

Jane focused on the stir fry but was completely conscious of the way he moved to her small dinette and took a seat. She was also completely conscious of the way he continued to stare at her.

Turning to a cabinet, she pulled down two glasses. "Would you like something to drink?" And the domestic-ness continued.

"Water… please."

Well, that was new.

Her eyes flicked to his. It had sounded like an afterthought, but his expression seemed to infer that the 'please' was a shock to him, as well. She stared at him as she filled the glasses. Loki gave a new meaning to the phrase 'cool, calm, and collected', so she was almost amazed by the way he appeared to be taken aback. But the shrill beep of the oven timer ended the moment, and she hurried to place the glass of water in front of him before rushing back to turn it off and take the vegetables off the hot burner.

"Thank you."

She had her hands in the oven and a face full of heated air when she heard his words, and the way her heart stuttered, it was a surprise in itself that she didn't drop any of the food on the way to the table. When she finally grabbed her own glass of water and sat down, she avoided looking at him. It wasn't that he did anything wrong, per se. It was just… different. New. Unexpected.

In all the times he'd eaten at the house, not once had they sat down to do so together.

Not once had he ever said 'please' or 'thank you.'

And – a quick glance confirmed it – not once had he ever looked at her the way he was right then.

* * *

July

"Where do you go?"

Jane leaned back into the plastic chair and watched as a series of fireworks burst in an array of colors in the distance. Shimmering and sparkling, their remnants fell in a willow pattern towards the ground. The distance delayed the subsequent rumble of the explosion by several seconds.

Unwilling to sit on the hard planks of wood, she'd hauled the plastic chair from the patio up the stairs to the small balcony outside her room to watch the Fourth of July celebrations. It probably would have been easier to just go to the festival, but sometimes she preferred to enjoy them from afar. It had been an unexpected surprise when Loki had joined her.

"What?"

Sitting on the railing, legs extended, he was casually leaning against the house with his hands clasped behind his head.

The night was unusually tepid, but he seemed relaxed… or as relaxed as he could ever be. He was still dressed the same as when she'd first seen him – he must use magic to keep it clean because she'd never washed it – and it wasn't the first time she thought how warm the outfit must be.

"When you're not here at the house… where do you go?"

They both watched a firework explode and twinkle, and he waited until the boom and crackle that followed had faded before answering. "I thought you humans enjoy time to yourselves. Do you not appreciate the fact that I am away?"

"I didn't say that."

And at her words, he softly chuckled.

A small smile of her own quirked the corner of her lips. Things had changed between them in the past few months. Nothing that was probably noticeable to a random passerby, but to Jane it felt monumental. The impermeable silence that was once a constant companion to any of their interactions had lifted and revealed an occasional conversation. Although some of them continued to be tense, more often than not, they were pleasant. And sometimes, like tonight, there was even a trace of friendly banter.

"I've been working to repair the bridge between the realms."

It took all Jane had to physically stifle the excitement she felt. "And how's it going?"

"Dismal, at best."

"Oh."

Amazing, really, how three words could dampen her spirits so effectively. The fireworks continued to burst, but a melancholy feeling had stolen over her and sucked away any of the happiness she felt. When she realized it, though, all she felt was frustration.

Why was she so sad?

From both a mental and an educational standpoint, she wanted the paths between the realms to be repaired because, without them, all of her years of studies were hopeless. Emotionally, though… she wanted it repaired because she still missed Thor. But there seemed little point in holding on to the events of three days for almost four years. Because over that time, she'd received no sign from the God of Thunder, no indication that he even thought about her. Waiting for him would be so much easier if he would send out a streak of lightning that would spell out a message for her.

Something simple like _'I'm thinking about you, my dear Jane'_ would suffice.

Or _'I'm still trying to return to you' _would also work.

Hell, even a _'Hey, I'm still alive'_ would be preferable to nothing.

But nothing was all she ever received. No clouds, no lightning, no message, no sign. Nothing. And even though he had promised, had whispered the agreement to her in the moments before he'd disappeared into a rainbow-tinted bridge, she sometimes wondered how long she could wait.

"Do you think it'll ever be fixed?"

"There is always the possibility." Jane watched a moth flutter by to land against the glass panes of the door, seeking the light that spilled into her bedroom from the hallway. "You still hold out hope for him."

It could have been phrased as a question, but it wasn't; instead, it was an observation. And it went without saying who 'him' was. "Yes, but everything seems to be working to keep us apart… and I'm only human. I don't know how much longer I can wait for him." Which was the hard and painful truth.

Some news – any news – of what had happened in the Realm Eternal before he left would be nice, but Loki remained silent. He always remained silent. Rarely, did he offer any information of his own accord without being prompted. So, he might have told her had she asked, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, she didn't really want to know. Instead, she settled on a different tract.

"Are you very old?"

"I am… not young." The words were carefully chosen. "It's hard to say how old I am in years; many centuries have passed since I gave up keeping count."

Finally, she turned in the chair, shifting slightly to face him for the first time that evening. "You don't even have an estimate?" He didn't meet her gaze, though, only continued to stare off into the distance.

"I am older than the grand oaks that line the vale on the borders of Asgard and the greatest mountains ranges of Midgard. I am older than the north wind that brings the first hint of frost and the south wind that heralds winters' end. I've seen the formation of stars and planets. To me, both the birth and death of great civilizations were nothing more than the blink of an eye. I've watched events transpire and then observed as they fade from present to past to memory to fable."

The light of a firework illuminated his face momentarily, and she was struck by the ancient being – _man_ – before her. Her life was nothing more than the span of a breath to him, nothing more than a single rise and fall of the sun; as short and meaningless to him as the life of the moth against the window was to her.

"It must be exhausting to be so old, to have seen and experienced so much."

If she were being completely honest, the idea of it was staggering.

"It's not always bad." And when he finally looked at her, she found she couldn't hold his gaze.

Kicking off her shoes, she brought her feet up, curled into the chair, and looked up at the stars. Her eyes roamed the constellations she knew so well, had memorized since she was only a child. She traced their patterns and repeated their familiar names in her mind.

"You're tired. You should sleep."

Eyes that she hadn't even realized had closed snapped open at his words, only to lazily drift closed once more. "It's a nice night; not too warm. I think I'll sleep out here tonight."

She'd most likely pay for it in the morning with a combined backache and crick in her neck, but she just couldn't find the energy or will to get up. Instead, she curled deeper into the chair. The quiet of the night, only broken by the occasional pop of a firework, lulled her to sleep, and she was in that moment between sleep and awake when she whispered.

"Loki?"

"Hmm?"

"How long is forever?" Because, compared to her, the span of his existence seemed like forever.

He was slow to answer. "Sometimes, it feels very long. But sometimes, it is only one second."

* * *

October

Jane wanted nothing more than to claw her eyes out in frustration.

The lines of complex numbers, letters, and symbols she'd been working on for weeks extended across the computer screen in an impressive formula that, unfortunately, provided less-than-impressive results. Hours upon hours spent calculating; night after sleepless night spent staring at the computer. And still nothing.

"Ugh…" An unintelligible half-grunt and half-groan was about the only thing that came close to expressing her vexation.

Arms folded on the desk, Jane lowered her head and stared at her lap. A bright combination of green, red, and black plaid pajama pants that she'd received for Christmas a few years back stared back at her. It was nearing lunch; she'd have to change soon or risk looking like a bum all day. No problem, she needed to take a break from the work… or a vacation.

A soft beep sounded and the discussions about World War II that had been the background noise all morning ceased. More often than not, Loki flipped through television channels with an expression of mild disgust at the programs and movies available to watch, but he seemed to have taken a genuine interest in the History Channel. Funny, really, considering how little he supposedly thought of her race.

"By nature, humans tend to be very self-destructive. How you manage to survive at all is beyond me."

Surprised to hear him speak, much less initiate a conversation, Jane lifted her head to peek over the computer screens. He lounged on the long section of her L-shaped couch, still staring at the dark screen with the remote in hand. Slightly indignant at his flippant attitude and casual judgment, she decided to counter.

"I think we do fairly well."

"Most of you have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted. While the world suffers from war and slavery and terrorism, the majority of the population hides away and pretends nothing is amiss. As a people, you close your eyes to the problems of your brethren instead of offering aid. You squander what little this planet itself has to offer for the pleasures of the present with no thought to the quandaries your actions will cause for future generations."

Jane felt properly chastised.

Even still… "Not everyone is like that." Standing up, she circled her desk to face him more directly, leaning back against the wood and crossing her arms. Either her movement or her rebuttal attracted his attention, and he fixed her with his keen eyes.

"Aren't they? If it doesn't affect a person directly, it is as if the issue doesn't exist. Humans live in a fantasy, they operate in a dreamland."

"No, we…"

"You study the stars as a profession, do you not?"

Jane struggled to catch up to the sudden transition. He looked at her, expectantly, and unsure of where he was going with the current question, her response came out slowly. "I'm an astrophysicist, yes."

"Then you, too, live in a dreamland."

At the accusation, Jane frowned. While most of her university friends went out drinking and partying, Jane had spent her time charting star progressions and tracking space anomalies in the hopes of reaching other realms. Sure, her research had seemed foolish and had, for a while, made her a professional pariah, but she'd been right, in the end. Her research was no dreamland.

"How is science a dreamland? I've spent my entire life studying ways to reach other worlds. With Thor's arrival, I was able to create scientific theories that explain the travel between dimensions."

"But you offer nothing to this world or society as a whole. Tell me, how does your research benefit your race?" Loki continued before she could respond. "It doesn't. All it does is provide a distraction. Before we arrived, your theories were nothing more than implausible concepts. That is all humans ever do is dream of the improbable."

"And that makes us stupid? A waste of intergalactic space?" Fueled by both her words and her beliefs, Jane stepped confidently forward, stopping when she reached the edge of the coffee table. "What do we have, if not dreams? Pyramids were only a dream before they were built. The United States was only a dream before people were able to make it a reality. There are plenty of good things that have come from a simple dream. So then, what's the harm in dreaming?"

With a blur of black and green, Loki stood but made no move towards her. His face was cold marble, expressionless, as smooth as his voice had been the whole conversation. While Jane's words were passionate and heated, his had remained flat and calm. While her emotions were broadcast crystal clear, Loki's had remained hidden.

"We don't have the luxury of living for thousands of years. Usually, we're limited to less than a hundred which means we have to try and experience as much as we can in what little time we have." She took in a deep, shuddering breath. "And so we live… striving and hoping and dreaming before our time is up."

As Morgan Freeman's character in The Shawshank Redemption said: 'Get busy living, or get busy dying.'

Breaking their stare, she looked to the window on the far wall and the forest beyond her backyard. And as an afterthought – because he was partly right – she conceded. "Not that dreaming is an excuse for turning a blind eye to the problems of the world."

Suddenly feeling very tired, she swayed, the hard edge of the coffee table pressing to her shins. At the contact, her eyes fell to its rough surface; it was the only thing that separated them. In her peripheral vision, she could see the way Loki's fingers twitched ever so slightly and wondered if he wished to slap, maim, or kill her for, what he probably thought was, her impudence.

"You are a curious creature, Jane Foster."

She glanced up to find him looking at her, mildly perplexed. It was not what she was expecting in the least. But without another word, he turned and crossed the living room, and a few seconds later she heard the front door open and close with a small click.

* * *

February

Loki had taken to spending more time with her than without her. The transition had been gradual enough to where the change didn't seem unnatural or strange, it was just one morning she woke up and realized that he'd been at her house for seven days straight.

Seven days of him staring at the television with a furrow between his brows.

Seven days of her cleaning and cooking and working around him.

Seven days of them eating together.

Seven days of talking.

A whole week.

On his eighth straight day in the house, Jane decided to challenge him to a game of chess. It seemed to be something more up his alley than basketball or video games, and he'd taken to it quickly… unfairly quickly. The first game had been a learning one meant to show him how the rules worked; the second game, which was the first real one, he'd won. The chance to exercise his mind was something he clearly enjoyed, so she'd only been marginally surprised when he was the one to challenge her to another round.

And then another.

And another.

She'd abandoned all thoughts of work as they spent the whole afternoon and well into the evening playing game after game. Supper was even cast aside as she opted for ordering a pizza instead of cooking. It was hard to keep up with him – he was always several steps ahead of her – but she tried.

They were in the midst of a round she might – possibly, maybe – have the slightest chance of winning, when she decided to break the atmosphere of concentration.

"Can I ask you something?"

Pursing his lips ever so slightly, he didn't even look away from the board. "Even if I decline, you'll most likely ask anyway." Which was about as close to a 'yes' as she'd probably ever get from Loki.

"How did you get to Earth if the bridge and paths are broken?"

"Dark magic." With his thumb pressed under his chin and fingers curled across his lips, the words sounded muffled. The muted inflection didn't stop the shudder that tried to steal through her, though, at the thought of what the two words implied.

"Is that different than the kind of magic you do?" She'd seen him conjure things and get rid of things; she'd seen him disappear and reappear into space.

"It is similar in its basest respects, but infinitely different in the details."

"How does it work?"

His eyes flicked to hers, momentarily. "It's complicated."

Obviously too complicated to try and explain. Risking sounding like a complete idiot, she forced out the question on her mind. "There was only enough to send you?" And although she didn't mean for it to be that way, her unspoken words – _Why didn't Thor come with you or instead of you?_ – hung heavy in the air between them.

Slowly, he met her gaze with a withering look. "You know nothing about the requirements of dark magic. To conjure enough to send more than one person to another realm would have been disastrous. As it was, it almost destroyed everything."

It was the nastiest she'd ever heard him sound, but was still nowhere near rude enough to make her flee the situation because he was right – she knew nothing about dark magic or the other realms or even travel between the realms. Which was exactly why she wanted to know.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Yes, but I won't."

"Why not?"

Jane had thought them to be past the point of refusing to answer questions. Did that make them friends? No, more like acquaintances… that lived with each other. It was better if she didn't think about it because their – relationship? – was too difficult to explain.

"You're better off not knowing."

Her eyes followed along as he replaced one of her knights with his rook. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Check." At her lack of action, his eyes lifted to hers. "Your move."

"Please don't just ignore me."

He issued a long-suffering sigh. "You will not like the answer."

"I would prefer you to just tell me."

Speaking of – relationships? – when had she become so comfortable around the God of Mischief to continue questioning him instead of dropping the inquiries?

"Trust me when I say, you don't want to know."

"Loki…"

"Cease this, Jane!"

It was the loudest he'd ever been, just hovering on the border of a shout. His hand lowered to join the other at the table's edge, fingers spreading out across its surface, as he shrewdly stared at her.

"What is it about you – an insignificant mortal – that so drastically changed Thor in the course of a mere three days?"

Jane knew her eyes were wide at his uncharacteristic show of temper, could feel the way her heart skipped a faster rhythm than was typical. Aside from his odd attire, it was sometimes easy to forget that he was basically a god. When he was always so quiet and calm, she was quick to forget that he could snuff out her life with little effort.

"You are attractive but not overly so, especially compared to Asgardian women, nor are you capable of any admirable feats of strength. You lack the ability to control yourself, often speak your thoughts without considering them first, and fail to recognize when to remain silent. And while you _are_ one of the smartest humans I've met, that has never been a quality Thor placed in high regard. So I ask again…" He leaned forward, not even twitching when he accidentally sent a chess piece off the edge of the table to land with a clatter on the floor. "How did you have such a lasting effect on a man that had remained unchanged for thousands of years?"

It was honestly something she couldn't answer, something she couldn't even fully comprehend. She'd gotten a taste for the type of man Thor had been when he'd first arrived… and he _had_ changed by the time he'd left, but there was no way for her to know how much or for how long.

"I… I don't know."

There really wasn't anything special about her; Loki had been more than happy to point that out. Even still, she had some redeeming qualities. But none of that mattered right then, because the only thing she cared about was…

"What happened?"

He gave her a hard look, jaw clenching and unclenching, eyes flicking back and forth between her own. "He is dead, Jane."

What?

"What?" The words spoken aloud seemed distant and fuzzy compared to the ringing in her mind. It wasn't right; it _couldn't_ be right…

"Thor is gone."

She shook her head in denial. "No." But he ignored her.

"When Thor returned from Midgard, he found me in an attempt to destroy Jotunheim while the All-Father remained in the Odinsleep. We fought, but I had opened the Bi-Frost to the point it couldn't be stopped, so with no other options, he destroyed the bridge. In the aftermath, the All-Father awakened, and I was tried for my crimes and subsequently locked away."

Jane worked hard to focus on what Loki was saying instead of the painful way her heart slammed against her ribcage.

"However, the Jotuns, angry at my attempted genocide, declared war on Asgard. It was the frost giants' constant travelling between the realms that strained the few pathways that remained in the Bi-Frost's absence."

Which was why Thor – was he really dead? – had never come back for her.

"When the All-Father fell to Skadi, Thor was forced to retreat as the war shifted to the Realm Eternal. I would have died in that cell before any of the Asgardians allowed me to be released; they didn't trust that I would align myself with them. So when the frost giants came for me, Thor summoned enough dark magic to send me away. And as the magic pulled me away, I saw Skadi stab him." He swiftly silenced her hopeful look. "It was an enchanted blade and a fatal wound, Jane; he could not have survived."

For the first time, Loki was the one to break their gaze, attention falling to his hands instead. "The she-devil would not have bested him had he not been focused on me. He gave his life to save mine. It seems he still considered me a brother even after all I'd done."

No, no, no… it was all so wrong… so very, very wrong. Bright and smiling and glorious Thor was dead, had died to save the sullen, cynical, barely-grateful man before her. Whatever force ran the cosmos – fate, luck, chance – was not fair in the slightest.

"Why did he send you? Why didn't he come here himself?"

His casual shrug was infuriating. "Because he was the king. And as King of Asgard, he was bound to fight and defend his home and those within it."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"

"Because you were happier not knowing."

Fury, hot and dense, surged within her, the energy of it stronger than anything she'd felt in longer than she could remember. Loki stared at her, remaining seated even as she stood so quickly that her chair fell to the floor behind her, and when she grabbed the chess board and flung it to the side in a semi-childish rage, he didn't even flinch. Warm, coppery blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her tongue. With a final glare in his general direction, she left. Kicking the fallen chess pieces aside, she fled upstairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her.

But no matter how many pillows she punched or things she threw or tears she cried could bring back the God of Thunder.

* * *

August

The months after finding out about Thor's death went by in a blur of work, daily chores, and Loki.

Despite their quasi-argument, he hadn't left. She'd expected to come out of her room the next morning to find him gone; instead, she'd gone downstairs to find him in the kitchen making coffee. In six months, he hadn't left the house for longer than one day. What was even more peculiar was the way he'd taken to striking up conversations with her. Their discussions were never anything lively or especially light-hearted, just… distracting.

He was distracting her.

Loki was pulling her away from dark thoughts about a Thor that was dead and gone and never coming back. And even the constant ache in her chest wasn't enough to prevent her from recognizing his efforts as almost-sweet. Or caring. Although, 'caring' seemed to fit Loki only marginally better than 'sweet'.

It was thoughts like those – a sweet and caring Loki – that had her looking at him differently. Because she'd never noticed how tall he really was, how dignified he held himself, how proudly he wore his Asgardian garb. She'd never noticed how the tips of his hair appeared to be so soft, how the green of his eyes mirrored that of a natural emerald, how elegant the contours of his body.

She'd never noticed how handsome he really was.

And while there was nothing wrong with admitting that he was, indeed, handsome, she did take an issue with the way her body reacted to the acknowledgment.

She'd be startled by his sudden appearances when she hadn't been before. She'd grown clumsy, tripping over her own feet in his presence. She'd also started to blush when she caught him staring… or felt him staring… or even when she just _thought_ she felt him staring.

Just the other day, he'd asked her a question from the kitchen doorway while her back was turned, and she'd jumped so badly that she dropped her mug. So with splatters of coffee on her pajamas and pieces of ceramic scattered across the floor, she'd had to endure the questioning eyebrow he'd cocked at her.

It was frustrating… and exhausting.

Because, as if tormenting her waking moments with thoughts of him weren't enough, her subconscious thoughts had jumped on the bandwagon as well. The first time she'd woken from a dream of him, she'd let out something between a yell and a gasp, still able to feel the touch of a hand against her inner thigh. And her house was just quiet enough and the walls just thin enough to where she was sure he'd heard her, could probably hear her jagged panting.

Not only was it frustrating and exhausting, it was also embarrassing.

She did her best to ignore her haywire emotions. And Loki seemed to do his best to ignore her strange behavior. But it was a struggle – a constant struggle that all came to a head one day when she was dusting and absentmindedly knocked over a tea glass when he coughed. Even through the towel, the ice was cold, a stark contrast to the heated flush of her cheeks.

With a huff, he closed the book with a snap and regarded her. "What is wrong with you, woman? You've grown increasingly nervous lately, and while it has provided for some amusement, I can't say it's a quality I enjoy overall."

Great. Nothing like being called out on something to make an awkward situation even more uncomfortable. Wadding up the towel, she stood without looking at him and started for the kitchen.

"Nothing's wro…"

And she'd trailed off as he disappeared from the couch and reappeared only a foot in front of her, all towering six-foot-something of him. Before she could even take a step back, he reached out to snag her chin.

She had no clue what was going on; the only thing she was aware of was the way his fingers lightly forced her to stare up at him. There was a questioning look in his eyes, treating the range of her emotions like a puzzle he could figure out. It would have been nice to have the ability to hide her feelings, but she'd never been blessed with the gift of concealment. So when his confused expression shifted into a more knowing one and his fingers abandoned her chin to brush lightly against her cheek, she well near fell over the coffee table in her hasty retreat.

"What are you doing?"

"You, Jane, are… lonely." Which, she supposed, was one way to put it.

He stepped forward into the space she'd vacated, and she responded with more backpedalling. "I'm not lonely, I've just been distracted." Keep the distance, Jane. "Distracted with work and… stuff." She maneuvered around the recliner, placing it between her and the advancing Asgardian.

"You are distracted, yes, but not with work."

"And how would you know what's distracting me?"

"You cannot lie to the God of Lies, Jane."

They were in the open area at the edge of the living room now. If she moved just a little to the left, she could run upstairs and… then what? Hide in her room? Even if she could outrun him – highly unlikely – it wasn't as if she could stay there forever.

"I thought you were the God of Mischief."

"I have many names."

"Really? Any others I might have heard of?"

"Perhaps I will tell you one day. But enough of these attempts at diversion…"

He took one more step forward, but when she reversed, her back suddenly hit the wall. And before she could blink, he was no more than a couple inches away, chest nearly touching hers, hands on the wall on either side of her. She was trapped, and like an ensnared animal, she fought back. With all her might, she pushed at him, trying to escape, but he stood firm.

"Jane." He repeated her name until she finally stopped struggling against his chest and raised her eyes to his. Only then, did he pick up a lock of her hair and play with the tips of it, gaze never leaving hers. "You _are_ lonely. And I am offering something I know you want, whether you wish to admit to it or not."

Morosely, she shook her head. "I can't."

"You can."

"No, I can't."

"You can!" He sounded fiercely insistent. "It's that you won't."

Releasing her hair, his hand drifted down, grazing a hot trail down the bare skin of her upper arm. Her hands that had been pushing him away were now fisted in the supple leather of his tunic on either side of his waist. And trying to hold on to the memory of Thor even as the skin right above her elbow burned with the light touch of Loki's fingers, Jane distantly wondered which was worse – dying from thirst or drowning beneath the waves.

But then, she didn't need water to feel like she was drowning.

All she needed was him.

Taking her unmoving silence as reluctance, he softly sighed and took a step back, giving her a route of escape. Jane, however, felt the loss of him keenly. Her weight shifted from her heels and she leaned forward almost imperceptibly. Like the moon beckoned the tide, she felt drawn to Loki. His firm, unyielding presence, his knowing expression… it seemed improbable, but he understood – whether from empathy or experience – what she needed.

And when her right foot slid towards his a few inches, it felt like a betrayal to Thor. Not the action in and of itself, but the intention behind it. Because she'd moved forward; she'd moved towards him. Even if she did nothing else, even if she resisted physically, her heart had betrayed him. But was it really a betrayal? In the end, Thor was dead and she was alone…

And Loki was here.

There was no reason for her to punish herself for events beyond her control. But – damn it – it was all so difficult and confusing. So knowing that no amount of reasoning could ever help the situation make more sense, Jane threw caution to the wind and did the first thing that came to mind.

It really wasn't all that bad, the feeling of his lips on hers. In fact, it was rather nice. He seemed mildly taken aback but recovered quickly enough, lips softening and head tilting ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. And when his hands floated up to cup her face and his tongue eased in to tease hers, it felt even nicer.

Strong and secure, he smelled like freshly fallen snow on the mountain cedars and tasted like the crisp iciness of an incoming flurry. After briefly pressing his forehead to hers, his breath was cool against her cheek in the moment before their lips met once again. On the other hand, his touch was like fire, burning paths across her skin. Down her arms, under the hem of her shirt to her waist, skimming up her sides… tendrils of flames that scorched her thoughts and resolve and left her alternatively grasping for his clothes, his arms, and his hair even as he pulled her to his chest and slanted his mouth more firmly over hers.

Her thoughts were leaves carried away in the wind, overwhelmed by the sensation of touching and being touched, wanting and being wanted, desiring and being desired.

It was almost – but not quite – surprising when she felt him shift slightly, experienced an intense pressure, and opened her eyes to see the interior of her room. It was even less surprising when the mattress nudged the back of her knees and she fell back into the comforter, both of their clothes disappearing with a wave of his hand.

"That's a handy trick. I've a feeling you've used that one before."

But then the feeling of his body on hers, bare skin against bare skin, sent white-hot blades of pleasure through her and effectively silenced any other words. Jane wanted this… needed this… and something about the urgency of his actions – the hard press of his fingers or the quiet moan in the back of his throat – made her believe that, just maybe, he needed this too.

And when he finally entered her, her name in his exhale sounded exquisite.

And when she was sent tumbling over the edge, his name in her cry sounded perfect.

And when they were both finished and wrapped in a sweat-slick embrace, their mingling sighs in the narrow space between their bodies sounded content.

* * *

December

"It's an artichoke."

"Is it similar to a pineapple?"

"Not at all. It's… well, it's hard to explain. Just try it." Jane held out the cracker piled high with spinach artichoke dip. "You'll like it, I promise."

He gave her a dubious look before giving the proffered snack a wary one. "You have no way of honoring that promise." Even still, he took it, chewing carefully. "It is adequate."

Which was about as good as she could hope for.

Flipping on the oven light, she peeked at the dressing and sweet potatoes in the oven. The gravy was already finished, as were the green beans and cranberry sauce. There was no turkey, though, or ham. It was Jane's first meat-less holiday, although she didn't really mind since the sides were the best part anyway.

"What are we listening to?"

"Manheim Steamroller. It's Christmas music; it's supposed to get you in the holiday season." She could feel his eyes on her as she stirred the gravy to keep it from scorching.

"You find enjoyment in the simplest things." The way he said it bordered on amazement.

Cutting off the burners, she faced him and leaned against the countertop, ignoring his look of amusement. "We humans have to do something to make our lives feel worthwhile."

He snorted at her attempt to imitate him, but the slight smile he offered lessened its effect. The words sounded like something he'd say, but she'd never be able to master the coolness with which he said things. "Worthwhile to whom? I would hardly call an annual feast, exchanging gifts, and some decorations worthwhile."

"Well, no one asked you." She sniffed as haughtily as she could to emphasize her point. It was a very ineloquent response, but it was the best she could do.

Jane watched as Loki's gaze drifted, moving from the festive plates and napkins to the two stockings that bore each of their names and then through the doorway to the Christmas tree in the living room.

"It seems like such a useless holiday."

"Then remind me to take you into town next year for Halloween; even you can appreciate that one. It's a night completely dedicated to making mischief."

"Now that…" She didn't quite like the devilish smirk that played at the corners of his mouth. "Sounds more promising."

* * *

April

The wind blew strongly off the ocean, whipping her hair so fiercely at times that it lashed and stung her face. She didn't tie it back, though; just let the wind do what it would. Flashes of white illuminated by the moonlight caught her eye as the waves broke in the distance, and the flickering light of the fire she'd built on the beach danced in the edges of her sight.

Loki sat beside her, hidden from the firelight in the shadow of her body.

"Do you ever miss him?"

It wasn't very often that Loki was the one to bring up Thor, but Jane had enough presence of mind to take it in stride and not act surprised. She felt the surprise all the same, though. Kicking off her shoes and burying her toes in the sand, she pondered the question, rolling the answer around in her mouth before speaking.

"I miss him in the way I miss summer once it's gone. In autumn, I look back and remember how much I enjoy the bright colors and the warmth and the way you can spend days on end outside. But no matter how much I miss the summer, I never want to stay there forever. Because, really, I enjoy the winter and look forward to it just as much."

And even though she hadn't meant it that way, she wondered if Loki picked up on the allusion.

It fit the two brothers in an uncannily obvious sort of way. Thor had been the embodiment of summer – warm and open and welcoming – while Loki was the essence of winter – cool and reserved and secretive. Both were just as beautiful, just different.

"Do _you_ ever miss him?"

Seeing how Loki was the official God of Mischief, Jane had always imagined him to be more… mischievous. He played pranks on her occasionally – transforming her dish towel into a rabbit while in the middle of drying dishes or creating hundreds of copies of the remote and forcing her to locate the real one – but nothing like she'd expected. From the moment she'd met him, he'd been so quiet, so still, so subdued.

But then again, being sent away from his home knowing that those he cared the most for were dead would be undeniably hard to deal with.

He let loose a sigh, very nearly hidden in the Pacific wind, and closed his eyes.

"Sometimes."

There was far more beneath the word than he cared to admit. But Jane recognized that and, ignoring the fact that his feelings ran deeper than a simple nine-letter word, let it drop and took it for what it was – progress.

Loki was so much like the ocean. Dark and deep and mysterious. People had a fairly clear understanding of the sea and its creatures – at least on the surface – but the depths remained unknown and enigmatic. And, like the ocean, Jane doubted she'd ever fully understand the complexity of the God of Mischief.

* * *

June

"Have you ever gone on a vacation?" Loki stared at her blankly. Turning back to the map spread across her desk, she charted a possible course. "We should go on a vacation. Maybe Virginia… or South Dakota… have you ever seen the mountains in Yellowstone?"

"No. Besides, Asgard has many mountain ranges, each of them far more magnificent than any on Midgard."

Jane glanced over to him, still staring at her, face bereft of expression. "You always think that everything is better somewhere else. Is there nothing about Earth that appeals to you?"

"This is a young planet, a young realm. One day, it might be more beautiful, but for now…" She jumped, almost falling out of the chair, when he reappeared beside her, casually leaning against the edge of the desk. "The Realm Eternal offers far more luxurious sights."

Slowly, she stood, moving to stand between his parted legs. The fabric of his pants just brushed against her bare calf, but other than that, neither of them made any move to touch the other.

"It must be very beautiful."

"Indeed. No human has ever laid eyes on Asgard's wonders."

Jane had always been fascinated by Loki's eyes. The deep jade of them, the way they seemed to glitter when he was amused or glisten when he was perturbed. They were so profound, so… fathomless. She was so lost in the depths of them that when he reached between them to snag her wrist and pull her to him, there wasn't even a hope of resisting – not that she would, not anymore.

He stared at her, looking somewhere between mystified and accepting, as if she simultaneously provided a problem and a solution.

"You mortals are so delicate…" His hands ghosted up her arms and over her shoulders to settle around her neck. They rested lightly, but there was no doubting the strength behind them. He could kill her in an instant. "Your lives so fleeting."

And then he looked almost sad. Fingers brushed lightly against her cheek before he pulled her into an embrace. Her arms moved to wrap around his waist, and she rested her head against his chest.

"One of Idunn's golden apples would suit you well, I believe. I don't think I'm quite ready to be rid of you yet."

She could feel his fingers thread through her hair even as her own hands remained still. "What do they do?"

But instead of answering, he only withdrew to catch her lips in a soft kiss. Jane never did get an explanation as to what made the apples so special.

* * *

September

Three years.

It had been three years since Loki had unexpectedly crashed to Earth and changed her life.

Over that time, she'd grown accustomed to his presence to the point where it just felt natural for him to be around. She was no longer struck by how alien he sometimes seemed because, after three years, it didn't seem so abnormal anymore. He was just him.

And so life was good. They hiked trails together and cooked together. They played games and read and shopped for groceries together. She'd even spent one weekend a few months back replacing all manner of useless things in the spare bedroom because Loki no longer occupied it, choosing to share her bed instead.

Everything was normal, or as normal as Jane's life could be.

One evening, though, she remembered. It came to her suddenly when she was standing at the door to the patio watching the sunset, admiring the way it painted the sky and outlined the trees. He lounged behind her on the couch, listening to a documentary on mythology, absentmindedly scratching behind their recently adopted cat's ears.

"Do you still work on the bridge?" It had been some time since she'd last asked him.

With her back to the room, there was no way of knowing whether he'd heard her, and she was just about to repeat the question when his answer came back just as softly. "Yes."

"And?"

"I'm close to repairing the paths between the realms."

She felt so calm, so… resigned. Words that would typically have caused her mind to whirl with activity had done the exact opposite – brought them to a sluggish halt. "Will you test the bridge when you've fixed it?"

"I'm… not sure."

Jane's humorless chuckle came out on a sigh. It was easy, sometimes, to forget that he wasn't of this world, that he didn't belong here. Still, he'd become her constant companion, so the thought of him going away was…

"It's funny how people always end up leaving. I feel like I'm constantly looking at everyone's backs as they walk away." Her father, her mother, Darcy, Erik, Thor. "For once – just one time – I'd like someone to stay."

Loki was silent, but she heard the telltale creak of the couch and the cat's protest as he stood. Jane had no right to keep him here, no right to even ask him to stay with her; he was another being, a God, the stuff of legends. And she was just a human, amusingly simple and painfully mortal.

"Will you _ever_ leave for good?"

Loki had told her he hadn't known what fate befell Asgard after Thor sent him away. There was always the prospect that others had risen in Odin and Thor's place to defeat the Jotuns, but there was also the chance that the frost giants had won. Going back and revealing to everyone that inter-realm travel was, once again, functioning would be a risk. But it was still his home.

"There is always the possibility…"

She sighed. Someday the bridge between the worlds would be repaired and he might be forced to leave. Hell, he might even choose to leave. But then she sensed him come up behind her, could feel the firmness of his body press to her back as his chin rested on the crown of her head and his hands settled at her hips.

"… but not yet."

And, in that moment, those three words were enough.

_Continued in "Restored"_


End file.
